Is Late Better than Never?
by Lily Rasputin

Chapter Three

I glanced back at the open door behind me, then looked at Becki again, torn about what I should do.

On the one hand, there was no way I was schooled enough in Maddie’s life to even pretend that I could carry on a lengthy conversation with someone who knew her, intimately it seemed, without them catching on that something was wrong. One the other, it would be a fairly efficient way of obtaining valuable information that I likely wouldn’t be able to get otherwise.

Becki bit down on her lower lip, her gaze dipping down my body for a second before coming back up. The apprehensive expression turned into something more curious.

“Were you going out?”

If I’d been in a more relaxed mood, I might have responded with something sarcastic in nature. After all, I was dressed, had my purse and car keys, and practically ran her over attempting to leave the apartment. Obviously I was going somewhere. Instead, I simply nodded.

“I’m meeting Ke … uh … Mrs. Johnston. You know, the woman I applied to nanny for? I got the job.”

Surely Maddie had mentioned the job to her girlfriend, right? It seemed like something that definitely would have come up at least once in a conversation. Unless Namira’s meddling in getting me the job hadn’t included altering the memories of other people. However, Beth had known about it. Had even commented on it.

Becki nodded her head. “Right. The nanny thing. Well, congratulations then.” She smiled. Or tried to. The gesture didn’t quite make it up to her red-tinged eyes. “Do you have to go right now? Can you spare ten minutes? Please?”

I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time. In reality, I probably could have spared close to thirty before I risked being late to the appointment. Of course, the more time Becki and I talked, the greater the threat I would say something suspicious.

“Yeah. I can spare ten minutes. Uh, come in?” I turned around and walked back into the apartment stopping in the living room. I didn’t sit or take my bag off my shoulder.

Becki followed me in and closed the door. She crossed over to stand a few feet away from me, leaning her hip against the back of the sofa. For a few moments, she just stared at me, and I worried she was expecting me to open the conversation. Then she visibly swallowed and gave me another forced smile.

“So, how are you?”

Back from the dead, thanks. Don’t mind the new resident in my skull.

I shrugged. “I’m okay. Tired.”

She nodded. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. If not for the fact that all I had in the fridge was some of Craig’s shitty beer, I might have tried drinking myself unconscious.”

Try downing a bunch of sedatives. That works wonders for putting you to sleep.

“Sorry,” I said. Though I wasn’t sure what I was sorry about. I didn’t harbor any delusions that Maddie had been completely innocent in the argument that led to the breakup. I just didn’t know what blame belonged to my former body’s owner and what should be placed on the nervous redhead.

Becki nodded. “Me too. I said some things last night that I really, really regret. I was hurt and angry and worried,” she held up a hand to stop me from interrupting, “none of which excuses my comments at all.”

“I said some things I probably shouldn’t have as well,” I admitted. “I’m sure it was partially due to the heat of the moment.”

Becki nodded. “I’m sorry that I said sometimes you act so crazy that it’s impossible to love you.” She took a hesitant step toward me. “That’s not true and I didn’t mean it at all. I was just so mad that you didn’t trust me, that I said something I knew would hurt you.” Another step closer, hands held down at her sides. “But I didn’t mean it, Maddie. I swear.”

I forced myself to stay where I was. While I didn’t think the other girl, who had probably twenty pounds and four inches on me, meant to get physically violent, I mentally prepared myself to bolt back to my bedroom if need be.

“It’s okay, Becki. Like you said, you were angry and worried. Sometimes emotions run high, and we say things that we know are wrong, but can’t help saying them nonetheless.”

The look on her face at my comment made me realize that I’d spoken more like I was her dad. Rather than her girlfriend. It seemed that fourteen years of parenting experience couldn’t be erased as easily as the physical years had been. Fortunately, my brain, mostly reliable when it came to clutch plays, performed brilliantly.

I remembered that one of the Cs Maddie had received on her report card had been for a course called Intro to Psychology. And that’s what I ran with.

“At least, that’s what I remember from my Psych class,” I said, giving a little shrug. “Probably all that I can remember.”

Becki’s confused expression lessened but didn’t disappear altogether. “I don’t remember that little nugget of wisdom.” This time, the grin definitely appeared much less strained. “Then again, I was constantly distracted from Dr. Peterson’s lecture because I was busy paying attention to you.”

Crap! Why had I not even considered the possibility that Becki and Maddie might have had the same classes? If they were both sophomores at the same university, the odds were greater that they would want to take the same courses. Idiot!

“Oh, right. Maybe I read it in the textbook.” You can just shut up about classes you never attended now, Maddie.

Becki took another step, the distance between us shrinking to a little more than a foot. “I mean it, though. You aren’t too crazy to love. Because I love you.” She smiled again. “I love you so much, Maddie. I’m just scared, you know? You get in these uber dark moods, and it scares me.”

I nodded as if I understood. Better to keep quiet and let the other girl spell things out.

“I’m scared that you’re going to do something. Hurt yourself, or …” She didn’t say the rest aloud. And, frankly, she didn’t need to. “Then I’m going to be all alone with this huge hole ripped in my heart and that terrifies the shit out of me.” She bit down on her lip again for a moment. “I thought it would be, you know, better if I just ended it and saved myself the pain.”

I didn’t agree with her choice, but I could certainly understand it. It wasn’t hard to hear Kelly’s voice in her words, and I wondered how badly my death had affected her and the kids.

“When I realized I was wrong, I tried calling you to apologize but you never answered. Then when the calls started being dropped without going to voicemail, I figured you’d blocked me. I was going to text Beth to ask her to check on you, because I was worried that you might do something, but I thought she’d ignore me as well. Especially if she knew we’d been fighting again.”

I held out my hands to the side. “Well, I’m okay. I didn’t do anything other than cry myself to sleep.” Better the lie than the truth, right? “So, no worries, right?”

Becki took another step, this time taking one of my outstretched hands into both of hers. The move was so sudden and unexpected that I didn’t have time to flinch or pull away.

“Please don’t do this,” she said as she looked down into my eyes. “Don’t act like everything is fine when it’s not. You are allowed to feel how you feel.” She gave my captured hand a light squeeze. “I love you, Mads. When you make me laugh, make me frustrated, and even when you make me cry. I love you.”

I stared up at her, my brain wracking with panic. This wasn’t what was supposed to have happened. We were going to have a nice chat, I was going to get some information, and then we were going to part amicably. No longer girlfriends, but something much more than strangers.

Declarations of love were so not on the agenda.

“I … Becki, look…”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t have to say it back. I mean, I was the one who broke up with you, right? I just wanted you to know that I still love you and I want to try to make it up to you. Please? Will you let me try?”

“I … suppose?”

Part of me screamed at my refusal to steadfastly deny Becki’s request. To accept her offer was a sure-fire way to get myself into trouble. On the other hand, I had to sympathize with her on some level. My own explosive argument with Kelly, where things not meant had been said, was extremely fresh to me. If I hadn’t died, if Namira hadn’t shown up to grant my wish, I wouldn’t have wanted someone I loved to give up on me.

Another genuine smile, this one mixed with apparent relief, appeared on Becki’s face. She pulled on my arm as she completely removed the distance between us. The next thing I knew, my hand was free and both of Becki’s arms were around my waist. Our chests pressed together as she leaned down to place her cheek next to my ear.

“Thank you. I love you.”

Despite the fact that I was a nineteen year-old female in body, my brain was still decades older. Which meant the perceived age difference made having Becki pressed against me romantically feel like something perverse. However, my only options were to hug her back or stand there like a disgruntled child being hugged by an annoying family member. So, I put my arms around her and sighed.

“I’m going to need some time. I’m sort of trying out something new. Something that might help with the dark thoughts.”

She pulled back and looked into my eyes. Our noses were almost touching, and I feared she was going to kiss me. It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty enough for me to want to kiss, despite the bags under her bloodshot eyes, Becki was a very pretty young woman. The sort of girl I remember staring at when I was in college while trying to decide which I wanted more: to bed her, or to be her.

The issue was that I hadn’t been affectionate with anyone other than Kelly for almost twenty years. The thought of kissing someone else, even if I was also someone else now, twisted the knife of guilt already shoved into my breast.

“I want to help you. If you’ll let me.”

I let a smile appear on my face at the same time that I pulled my arms back into my own space. “I would like that,” I said. The scary part was that I realized that I think I actually meant it.

After allowing her to talk me into at least calling her later to chat, I was able to get Becki out the door. I took a moment to compose myself, then departed as well. The shiny red BMW convertible was impossible to miss. Not only because it was so brightly colored, but also due to the fact that the lot itself was practically empty.

As I walked to the awaiting vehicle, I glanced around the complex, which was made up of six identical three-story-tall units. A quick count indicated that each building was made up of twelve apartments. The one Beth and Maddie lived in was on the second floor and had a balcony that overlooked the parking lot below.

I slipped behind the wheel of the luxury import and dropped my purse off on the passenger side seat. The engine started with the quiet purr of a well-maintained machine and the radio instantly connected to the phone in my bag, filling the car with the streaming music of one of the many pop stars I knew Sheila to be a fan of.

“Guess we’ve got the same taste in music now, kiddo,” I said with a note of chagrin.

It wasn’t that I disliked my daughter’s musical preferences. It was just that I didn’t see the appeal in a rotation of singers that seemed to be carbon copy cutouts of each other. It was next to impossible for me to tell the difference between Ariana and Demi. Or Taylor and Britney. However, I had to accept the fact that I was going to have to learn to like the genre. Or at least, pretend to.

There were bound to be plenty of changes I was going to make to the personality of Madeline Chambers, some of which I knew couldn’t be helped. Switching her preferred choice in music from modern pop to 80s classics would be just one more thing that might make people suspicious.

When I pulled out of the parking lot, I discovered that I was only a few blocks from the campus itself. I didn’t know if Maddie was the “walk to class” type of girl, but she was going to be when the semester started back up in a few months. I’d always enjoyed being able to walk to places and really had no desire to give up that portion of my old life.

The drive to my former residence was a bit different than I was used to. At the first stoplight I hit, barely a quarter of a mile from my apartment, I found myself idling next to a rather loud Mustang. When I glanced over at the driver absentmindedly, I realized he was staring at me. It took me a second to understand that he wasn’t looking because he wanted to race or anything. He was staring because I was a young woman alone in a vehicle.

I turned my attention forward again, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“You are a girl now, Mike,” I said to the empty car around me. “Which means that you’re going to have to pay attention to who’s around you. Welcome to the crappy side of being female.”

The light turned green, and I let the muscle car get a considerable lead before turning at an intersection to take an alternate route from the one I’d planned. I felt foolish for being so paranoid, but until I was more comfortable with the nuances of my current reality, I told myself it was better to be safe than sorry. Or worse.

I arrived about five minutes ahead of schedule and decided to park my car at the curb, rather than pull in behind Kelly’s Altima. When I got out, the first thing I noticed was that the grass needed a mow. It was something I’d always preferred to do myself, despite the fact that the rest of the neighborhood utilized the services of landscapers. The property itself was relatively flat and the job rarely took more than an hour of my time.

Plus, it was a chance to work up a sweat while mindlessly toiling and avoiding thoughts I didn’t really want to think.

I strolled up to the front porch, carefully avoiding the three loose pavers that I’d never gotten around to replacing, and bounced up the steps. I almost pulled open the door out of habit, catching myself right as my fingers curled around the handle. I yanked my hand back as if I’d just been about to grab a burning log.

“This isn’t your house anymore, dummy,” I quietly chided myself. “You’re a stranger here, remember?”

Instead, I pressed the button next to the handle and took a moment to stare at my nearly transparent reflection in the storm door. As I did, I repeated the same mantra over and over in my head.

You’re Maddie, not Mike. You’re Maddie, not Mike. You’re Maddie, not Mike.

A shadow appeared at the end of the hallway visible through the door and began to move closer. A second or two later, Kelly opened the door and fixed me with a smile.

“Hey, Madeline. Come on in.” She gestured with the hand not holding the door.

“Thanks, uh, Mrs. Johnston,” I said as I stepped into a foyer that didn’t seem to be all that changed since I last saw it. Which, for me, was a little more than sixteen hours ago.

Kelly closed the door and began to walk down the hallway. “Please, call me Kelly. I mean, I hope we’re going to become close friends while you’re here. Addressing me as Mrs. Johnston is going to get tiresome for us both.”

“Okay, then. Kelly. And you can call me Maddie. Apparently everyone else does.”

Kelly glanced back over her shoulder at me and nodded before turning left into the kitchen. “That’s right. You mentioned that in the interview. Want to grab a seat at the table while I get us something to drink. I’ve got water and soda in the fridge. Or I can brew some fresh coffee if you prefer.”

“Water is fine, thanks.” Did this body even like coffee?

As she rummaged around in the fridge for my beverage, I took a few deep breaths as I attempted to calm my jangling nerves. It wasn’t just the fact that I was here in my old house, trying to pretend to be someone else. It was that my death, Mike’s death, had obviously taken a toll on Kelly.

Don’t get me wrong. She was still as beautiful to me as the day I first saw her. But the intervening six months had changed her in little subtle ways that probably only seemed more drastic to me because of the time lag.

There were heavy circles under her eyes, and her blonde hair seemed less bouncy and more dulled. She’d lost weight. Not enough to be considered emaciated, but the wife I’d run away from the night before had been the right amount of curvy. Healthy. Now, I could see the way her shirt seemed looser, sort of draping across her torso. And the legs sticking out of the bottom of the black tennis skirt were thinner, with more defined muscles in the calves and thighs.

I looked away before she could catch me gawking, only turning back to her as she returned to the table and handed me the chilled bottle.

“Thanks,” I said, twisting off the cap and taking a swallow to soothe my parched throat. “You have a lovely home.”

“You said that during the interview,” she replied, tilting her head in suspicion.

Crap! Five minutes in and I’d already made my first mistake. I put on what I hoped was Maddie’s most charming smile. “And I meant it then, too. I really like this house. It’s definitely family friendly.”

I didn’t care for the little huff of amusement that Kelly released at my comment. It was a sound I knew intimately and understood it meant that she found what I said amusing. And not in a good way.

“I’m sorry?” I said, looking at her. “Was that not a good assessment?”

She stared at me for another couple of seconds, then waved her hand. “It used to be. Maybe it will be again someday.”

I nodded and took another sip of my water. I didn’t know if Kelly had revealed her husband’s fate during her first meeting with Maddie. Correction, the fake memory Namira had planted of her first meeting with Maddie. Best to just wait and see.

“So,” Kelly said as she gave me a terse smile. “As I originally said, the kids are in school for the next three and a half weeks. During the week, I’m going to need you to get them up, feed them breakfast, and make sure they get out the door in time to catch the bus to school. In the afternoons, they will need a snack when they get home and someone to make sure they do their homework. Devon has soccer practice on Mondays and Thursdays at six o’clock through the end of June and Sheila …”

She sighed and shook her head. “Sheila used to have gymnastics on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. However, she lost interest in her extracurriculars after The Accident.”

The Accident. I could practically hear the capitalization in Kelly’s voice. Not just any accident, The Accident.

The one that had left her a widow.

I frowned, clenching my jaw to keep from saying something. Sheila had insisted on taking up gymnastics when she was only eight years old. While she was better than some of the other kids in her classes, she was far from competing on an Olympic level. I remembered sitting and watching her tumble and flip on many a Saturday, cheering along with the rest of the parents. She knew she didn’t have a professional future in the sport, but that never stopped her from flashing a huge smile every single time she got onto the mat.

Now, that joy was something she apparently lost when she lost her dad. The thought of it made my heart ache terribly.

“You mentioned the weekdays while school is in,” I said as I steered the conversation back to the less emotional topic. “What about weekends and summer vacation?”

Kelly shrugged. “I’ll be home on the weekends. As long as I’m not locked in my room, buried underneath a case, you should be able to relax and take the day off. During the week, though, you’ll have to come up with things for them to do that’s more than simply staring at their tablets or watching TV. As for any vacations … that’s going to have to be played by ear. My husband used to plan our summer getaways.” She frowned and looked past me into the murky future. “Right now, I’m not even sure we’ll go anywhere.”

I frowned as well. Figuring out what we were going to do as a family was always a task I eagerly enjoyed. Maybe I’d be able to come up with something that would help the three of them take their minds off their loss.

Kelly stood up and went over to the counter, returning with a couple of sheets of paper that she slid across to me, along with a pen.

“This is a standard contract outlining the expectations of your duties and responsibilities, as well as the compensation for performance that I mentioned in the interview. Please look everything over and sign at the bottom. As for payment, I believe you said that you were fine with a weekly salary. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said with a nod as I pulled the papers closer and began to look them over.

The contract wasn’t too detailed or complicated. As Kelly had said, the majority of my duties revolved around helping care for Sheila and Devon. Which, I guess, was at least an adherence to the letter of my wish, even if it hadn’t been the intent.

I picked up the pen and started to sign my name on the line right below Kelly’s signature. As I did, I had to consciously remind myself that the name “Madeline M. Chambers” was the one I wanted to put down. Not “Michael S. Johnston”. I also did my best to make the swirling letters look more feminine, a big change from my former, nearly illegible scrawl.

Weirdly enough, I thought the results weren’t half bad. I felt like it would only take a bit of practice before the flowery signature came to me naturally. Which led to another thought. How long would it take before everything about being Maddie felt natural and the things that had made me Michael were barely remembered? Although I thought it unlikely that I would actually forget who I used to be, I had to concede that eventually my new life’s aspects would overshadow those of my old one.

Kelly smiled as she picked up the contract and blew out a relieved breath. Had she thought I wasn’t going to agree to the required stipulations of the job? Maybe she’d worried that a young college student wouldn’t actually be willing to give up a large portion of their time to care for a couple of kids. Even if they had been the one to apply for the job.

“So,” Kelly said as she waved one hand toward the doorway, “shall I give you the grand tour of the house and show you your bedroom?”

I followed her around as she led me out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to the living room, trying to ignore the whole oddness of being shown around my own house as if I were a stranger. However, once I started actually paying attention, I began to notice little things that were different than I remembered.

For one, there was a more disorderly appearance to the living room. Despite the fact that Kelly and I had worked long hours, she as an attorney and I as a financial analyst, we had always maintained a relatively tidy home. We worked together to keep things looking presentable and mostly chaos free.

Now, I spotted a couple of pairs of Devon’s shoes haphazardly discarded next to the sofa and an empty glass, with accompanying soda can, sitting in the chair that Sheila often favored.

“I know it’s a bit of a mess,” she said apologetically. “But I’ve just been so swamped with work lately that I’m too tired to do anything about it.”

I nodded. “It’s okay. I imagine it’s not easy being a single parent with two kids.”

Kelly snorted a little laugh in that cute way I always found adorable. “You have no idea.”

Smiling, I shrugged one shoulder. “Well, you won’t be doing it alone anymore.”

The tour took us from the living room through the dining room, past the laundry room (where I noticed two baskets of unwashed clothes), and back around into the foyer and the stairs leading up to the second floor.

“That’s Devon’s room,” she said as she pointed at the open doorway on the left.

The room inside looked like a tornado had hit a toy store. Action figures strewn about, along with two handheld gaming systems and a dozen or so costumes that included a NASA flight suit and a firefighter’s helmet, coat, and mask. The funny thing was that it didn’t really look all that different than I expected.

I grinned. “Looks like a fun place. His own personal Fortress of Solitude.”

Kelly gave me a strange look, but then pointed to a door across the hall from Devon’s. The door was not only closed, but there was a bright yellow handmade sign hanging from a hook that read, “Keep Out!! This means you, Devon!!!” The warning had not been there on Mike’s last night on earth. Sheila had always doted on her little brother. Much more than one might expect a freshly minted teenager to.

“That’s Sheila’s room,” Kelly said.

I simply nodded and continued following my wife down to the end of the hall. She stopped outside the closed door of the room that used to be my home office, located directly across from the master bedroom. She put her hand on the doorknob and turned to smile at me.

‘And this,” she said as she opened the door, “is your room.”

I stared in shocked silence at the scene before me.

My desk, a large cherry thing that I’d picked up from an estate sale and forced two of my friends to help me move, was gone. As was the matching table and bookshelf. Instead, a small double bed occupied the center of the far wall, the duvet a light teal color. The business awards that I had received over the course of my career no longer hung in various places on the walls. They had been replaced by a framed painting of a vast field of roses and another that showed a sea of waving corn stalks with a tiny farmhouse in the distance.

“I figured you could decorate the room as you want. You know, since it’s yours.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remember that Kelly had had six months to clear out my stuff. When I opened them again, I realized I could still see the impressions of the former furniture in the beige carpeting. It wasn’t hard to assume that she hadn’t turned the space into a bedroom until recently. Probably when she started looking for a nanny.

“It’s perfect,” I said, waiting until I could pretend to be pleased that the spot where I’d spent most of my work career was now just another bedroom before turning around to look at her.

The pensive expression on her face turned into a pleased smile. “Really? Great. I was worried you would think it was too small or something.”

I shook my head. “It’s about the same size as my current bedroom.”

Kelly laughed. “My condolences, then. Oh, and since I figured you didn’t want to share a bath with the kids, you can use the one in the master.” She pointed at the closed door across the hall. “There’s a large garden tub and a separate shower.”

I laughed. “That would be great. Thanks.”

The slamming of the front door caused us both to look down the hallway. Kelly nodded her head in that direction.

“It sounds like Devon’s home.”

By the time we’d made it back downstairs to the kitchen, my son was already doing his best to demolish a bag of potato chips while watching something on his phone. He looked up as we entered, brown eyes widening when he saw me. Then he looked at Kelly and grinned.

“Yes! I knew you were going to pick her!” Salty crumbs flew out of his mouth and landed on the island’s countertop.

I smiled at the sight, happy that at least one thing hadn’t changed since November. Devon’s after school entertainment and snack was as familiar to me as the layout of the house. It was really the only time he ate junk food, and considering he was a pretty active kid, we allowed him that one indulgence.

“Hey, Devon,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. Hanging out and having adventures.”

He grinned even wider and nodded. “I’m glad Mom didn’t pick Mrs. Wilson. She didn’t seem to be a fun person at all. She reminded me of my teacher last year.”

Kelly’s cheeks reddened, but I merely laughed.

“Well, I’ll promise to try to be more fun than Mrs. Stevens.”

Devon nodded, his gaze dropping back to the screen. Kelly, however, threw a suspicious glance my way.

“How did you know he had Mrs. Stevens last year?”

Shit! I totally forgot that the whole debacle with the third-grade teacher wasn’t something Maddie would know about. I’d been so excited to see that Devon was handling my death so well that I let my guard drop. I put a smile that I hoped seemed genuine on my face and shrugged.

“He’s in fourth grade at Jesse Wharton, right? That’s where I went. All of the third graders were terrified of her.”

I mentally crossed my fingers that Mrs. Stevens had been a teacher at the school long enough to have had a ten year old Madeline as a student. Lord knows the old battle-ax was certainly old enough.

“Oh,” Kelly said, but something in her voice cast a shadow of doubt over my explanation. It was as if she didn’t completely believe me, but couldn’t think of a good reason to pursue the suspicion.

However, since she didn’t push the issue, I simply glanced back at Devon as if the matter was dropped. “What are you watching?”

“Spider-Man,” he said, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth. “He’s cool!”

“Spider-Man is cool,” I agreed, then turned back to Kelly. “When would you like me to start?”

She gave me a pained look. “Six months ago?” Then she laughed and shook her head. “Sorry. That was a bit depressing. How soon can you start?”

I ignored the stabbing sensation in my heart and made a point of tapping one finger against my lips. “I can go back home and pack a few things for now. Maybe a week’s worth of clothes and such. I could be back by eight tonight. Before the kids’ bedtime.”

Kelly smiled. “That would be great. I thought I might have to struggle through the rest of this week first. However, if you could be here tonight so we could go over a plan for your first full day that would be a lifesaver.”

I nodded. “Deal.”

The front door slammed again, signaling that Sheila was home, and I turned to look at the kitchen door. The young girl who walked into the room, though, was not the same little girl I had kissed goodnight on my last evening as a man.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, relative to my frame of reference, I gave a hug and a goodnight kiss to a fourteen year-old girl with long blonde hair that was often braided into pigtails and who enjoyed dancing around in brightly colored clothes to the most saccharine, upbeat pop music. She was a bountiful ray of optimism whom I had loved from the moment I held her tiny body in my arms.

The girl standing in the doorway was not that same girl. The golden tresses that used to hang halfway down her back were now hacked to just below her chin. There were dark purple streaks running through in various places. The makeup plastered onto her face added a year or two to her appearance, but also made it look like she was auditioning as an extra for the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Her jeans were ripped across the knees and the black boots encasing her feet were a far cry from the bright pink sneakers she’d made me buy her right before Thanksgiving. The dark gray hoodie, which had to be stifling given the warm spring afternoon, was open enough to reveal that the black T-shirt beneath was far too small on her developing torso.

She stood in the doorway and looked from me to Kelly and back. Devon smiled at her as he pointed at me.

“Look! Mom picked her to watch us. Cool, huh?” Despite his enthusiasm, whatever the animated wall-crawler was doing on the screen was alluring enough that he didn’t wait for Sheila’s reaction to the news.

Which was probably a good thing. Because my daughter, my precious baby girl, looked at me with the same expression one might give to something they stepped in.

“Great. Just what I needed. A babysitter my own age.”

I’m not sure it would be possible to measure the amount of sarcasm and venom contained in those three short sentences.

Then she aimed that dejected, angry look at Kelly. “I’ve got homework,” she announced as she turned around and stomped away. Each footfall on the stairs was an exclamation point punctuating her displeasure and the force of the door to her room being slammed was a statement all on its own.

I looked over at Kelly, my stomach twisting as I saw the pain and embarrassment etched onto her face. She sighed as she leaned against the counter and looked my way.

“Sorry about that. She’s fourteen going on twenty-one.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in an almost helpless gesture. “Please don’t take what she said personally. She didn’t think I needed to hire you. Or anyone, to be honest.”

I nodded, still reeling from what I’d seen and heard. My Sheila, the one I’d left behind, would never have acted that way. Not to a total stranger, and certainly not to her mother.

“She’s hurting,” I said, almost as much to myself as to Kelly.

“Yes,” Kelly agreed. “Hurting and angry. Particularly with me.” When I looked back at her, she gave that same pitiful shrug. “She blames me for her father dying.”